Melted Smile
by Light8mare
Summary: As the state in Russia worsens, Ivan finds he has more to fear than illnesses tied to his nation's failing, namely, his own people. Will America and his other fellow nations find him? And, if they do, will he be the same Russia they've always known? Rated M for safety.
1. Chapter 1

The room was freezing.

Russia could see his breath puffing into the air already thickly saturated with tension.

He wasn't stupid. He knew they what they were doing. All his people were rioting and killing, stealing from each other and throwing themselves into anarchy.

_And everyone thought Russians perfered hating each other quietly, _he remarks mentally with a strained smirk.

You can only stay quiet so long. The ice had broken, and now all of blazes broke loose.

Russia flinches when the constant throbbing soreness wormed in through his body worsens. It was getting out of hand now. He sighs, letting the breathy mist out like cigarette smoke, and gazes up at the ceiling. It didn't matter what he did, he would be the one to witness his children gone mad as they destroyed him.

_And I thought I knew loneliness before._ Before he had at least held the comfort of his people, and the knowledge that, as a nation, he would continually have new chances at trying to make a friend.

But now even that was ripped away, as in his nation's destruction he would loose everything and cease to exist.

It was quite sad. But he couldn't even walk without limping now, so how could he attempt to pull everything together again?

Then he feels it. He can feel that hand's motion before it meets the wood. He can feel their ill intentions before the violence in the knocking at his door is heard.

These were people who knew who and what he was.

Meaning he was in serious danger.

But he didn't move. It would do no good. Escape and abandon his people? Or let them take him and do what they wilt? Neither were good options. So he didn't bother to even try.

The door was busted in by a hatchet and three bullets and heavy feet pounded the stairs as the came closer. Finally the door swung open. Both familiar and not so faces surrounded him. These people were filthy and from clear poverty. They looked like they were straight from Japan or America's zombie apocalypse games, but that was normal in the current Russia. Two of them were from the government.

Russia scans their faces, twisted in the madness brought about by fear, hatred, and sadness. These men were no longer men, but monsters preparing to do a very bad thing. Desperation drives good people to become these fear-driven monsters, and now all Russia could do was wait for them to make their move.

"Hey. Nation. Fix this." One man spits. Russia smiles sadly at him and shakes his head, knowing that it didn't matter if he tried not explain or not.

"This is your fault right? Fix it!"

More angry outbursts break out and Russia closes his eyes, smile frozen at his lips, head bowed in resignation.

When the shouts reach a certain level, and their temper hits fever pitch, they move in and become physical. Russia does nothing as they hit and kick him, makes no movement as they involve their weapons.

That smile doesn't change, openly admitting "hey, I'm at fault. I did this. I deserve your punishment."

When the men exhaust their immediate frustrations, they stop and begin restraining him with cuffs, belts, and ropes, along with any other object that can be used to tie him up. One prods him with a gun to encourage him to stand, and then they lead him away.

Down the stairs.

Out of his house.

Into the chaos.

His smile doesn't slip.


	2. Chapter 2

A metal bat.

He wasn't surprised

With a sigh, he slumps against the tight chains wrapped around his body. He tries to ignore how they dig into his skin and freshly acquired bruises and instead focuses on the drips from the ceiling.

They had been torturing him for days.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He knew it would only grow worse as these men numbed to his human looks and began to see him as a creature.

_Where is all that water coming from?_

The man strides closer. Then he pulls back the bat as far as he can.

_It must be the snow. I guess its melting now._

_CRACK!_

_-.+_

Russia's head begins to sag.

The weakness from the mad state of his nation coupled with the torment from his captors was becoming too much.

_Speak of the devils... _He turns at the sound of the heavy door being unlocked and pushed open.

The man carries a saw.

Bad feelings well up inside Russia's stomach and he attempts to pull his legs in. The man kneels down and jerks his leg out straight. The others enter and unlock his chains, then proceed to drag him away from the wall.

Blood drains from Russia's face as they go about pulling off his coat, scarf and shirt, rolling up his pant-legs, exposing him to the freezing air of the basement being used as a prison.

"Hold him down," saw-man says and they obey.

Pain explodes through his head as the saw bites through his toes. Then his ankle. Then right above that.

They were sawing off his legs, chunk by chunk!

The men struggle to keep him down as he begins to thrash from the harrowing pain streaking up through his body into his mind.

-.+

One leg was gone. It had taken a full hour, as they had begun to slow down, making it last. They had gotten past the ankle when the taunting started. In between each sliver of appendage lost, their awful words tear at his ears.

They were _enjoying_ this!

These savages who were ripping down the walls he'd built around this mind, were enjoying his agony!

They laugh at him as he squirms and one goes as far as to prod his chest. "Where are your screams, huh?" Excited at this new game, the others join in, jabbing fingers into his stomach, ribs, and throat. A few began to pull at his tightly clenched lips and jaw, trying to coax him into letting out some noise, any noise, that would prove the agony they were bringing.

"Retribution..."

"Can't control us..."

"Not so high and mighty..."

"Look at yourself..."

"Dirty."

"Filthy."

"Worthless."

They laugh and a few start kicking his head, it jerking back and forth on his spine as they use it as a soccerball. His thoughts were becoming slow and sluggish from the constant new concussions, but the pain in his legs kept him from going unconscious.

The laughter was becoming overwhelmingly loud on his ears, and it filled his pain-ridden mind.

There were more people.

And a larger space.

And a sky.

_Oh. They took me outside._ Very briefly, a memory of them carelessly dragging him up the stone stairs like he was an unloved toy flashes in his mind, but its quickly pushed out by the shouts and whooping laughs. He suddenly notices, as the wind strikes his skin with freezing needles, that he was now completely bare of any protecting clothing.

They stab knives through his stomach and between his ribs. "Give us a scream!" They holler.

Russia wasn't getting enough air through his nose. He tries to open just a corner of his mouth, but then someone jabs him hard in the gut with a metal pole. Choking gasps pry his lips open, and suddenly he can't help himself.

He can't stop it from forcing itself from his throat and ringing into the open air, climbing above all other voices.

He screams.

His people, no, this army of creatures rain sadistic laughter over him as their bloodlust grows, and someone waves a box of matches.

The others immediately take hold of this idea and drag Russia to a metal pole that still stand upright, tying him to it. Around his feet anything flammable is thrown. They douse him in foul smelling gasoline and toss in the match.

His screams become shrill and hysterical as the flames rip over his body.

The worse part of all was his inability to die by human hand. He would regenerate, and they would just keep going forever, just keep breaking him down until he himself had the chance to properly end his own life. By then though, he'd probably be too far gone mentally to follow through.

His head tilts up to see the blackened, polluted sky, as if there might be some glimmer of hope up there.

That's when he notices what pole he was tied to.

A flag pole.

Russia stares mornfuly at his flickering, torn flag as the smoke from his personal bonfire reaches up to touch it teasingly.

That sad sight was enough to break his heart.

He had already faced the other nations rejection, his people's suffering and betrayal, and now he stood under his own symbolic death as the ice numbing his soul to years of memories of bloodshed and violence thawed against the flames.

He hadn't noticed the tears running down his face till now.

His sobbing screams fill the dying land of Russia's skies.

* * *

**Well that escalated quickly. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I am thankful for your kind reviews. If you have anything you wish to critique, I would be most appreciative of it. It'll help keep the story quality up, as I have this tendency to dilute it after a while. Any suggestions are welcome as well. **

* * *

America taps the desk impatiently as he waits for the other nations to make an appearance.

They had all found out how Russia was beginning to crumble, and wanted to hear what the man had to say about it.

For once, the meeting wasn't about stupid ideas and fighting.

It was about the life of their fellow nation, even if he was creepy and disliked by most of them.

Slowly, other nations begin to trickle into the room until everyone was there.

Everyone, except Russia.

"Hey, does anyone know when the commie's planning on showing?" America asks unhappily.

No one seems able to answer. "Perhaps he's late?" France suggests. "His country is pretty far from the meeting." The idea appears reasonable, but Britan shakes his head.

"No, he always arrives on time. Besides, Japan and China are further."

"Well maybe Japan and China went in the opposite direction!" France says.

"No, because then Russia could have as well. Besides, even if he took the long way he wouldn't be _this _late! He's only a few miles away from us. Even less from Germany and Poland, and they're both here." Britian retorts.

Before France can open his mouth to reply and effectively start another verbal war, Germany steps in and says to change the subject, "I have seen no sign of him at all recently."

Poland, taking the switch in stride calls out, "Me neither, and I'm like waay closer than Germany!"

Agreeing choruses from Finland and China ring out, and then they're all shocked when Belarus and Ukraine join in as well. "I cannot even get pass his borders now," Belarus admits sternly.

"So Russia's worse than we thought?" America says, and the other nations seem to agree.

"We must act quickly if we are to aid him," Britian announces, and America suddenly looks excited.

"Dudes! I get to be the hero for Russia! Isn't that awesome!?" He exclaims and the others groan.

-.+

His hands were trembling. He clasps them together, hoping to stop them, but they continue, ignoring his effort. The tremors were enforced by both the cold and the small trickle of fear stirring in the back of his skull.

Russia sighs and leans back in the darkness, despite his shuddering keeping him from any comfort. He had been buried in a snow drift while his attackers left for a break. He was certain from the noises he'd heard, however, that there was a guard armed with a gun waiting for him to try to dig out.

He could feel himself becoming colder, his bare skin numbing against the ice around him. He would get hypothermia if he didn't dig out soon, but escaping the snow meant a bullet in his skull, and the noise was sure to attract the monsters from their break.

Suddenly, he felt something icy touch his hand. He knew who it was.

The very person who had defended Russia from invaders by his country's side. The one who attacked him every winter.

General Winter.

"Are you here to make me suffer further?" Russia whispers hoarsely to the near-translucent man, his throat raw from screaming.

To his surprise, the General shakes his head. "They have hurt you enough. The only way I could worsen your situation is with a blizzard, and even then, it may mean escaping your tormentors before it froze you."

Russia blinks quietly, hoping to clear the haziness from his eyes. "Then... Why...?"

"Because you have been hurt and betrayed. I don't desire to be cruel to you in your end when you have fought by me so many times." The old General's icy eyes seem brighter in the dark. They seem to fill his sluggish mind. "I am your company. Even if I am not good company, would you rather turn to my cold, or their pain?"

Russia thinks slowly, his mind lethargic from both choices given by General Winter. He was tired. So tired from the violent shivering that seemed to rattle his bones. If he could just relax and fall alseep... Maybe then he would be able to think clearly.

The lack of air in the small space was beginning to make him feel oddly hot, despite still feeling the chill clinging to his skin. _It's so dark here... I could... Just... _

Russia's head begins to loll forward, and the General wraps his freezing arms around him.

Not freezing. He couldn't feel the cold anymore.

He felt warm actually.

Delirium began to wash through his sight as his eyelids slide down. He summons the first nice color to his mind to block out the darkness, and a dream-like world fazes into veiw.

Green was everywhere.

_Green like plants... Trees and grass and... And flowers. Like sunflowers._

He could see it all so clearly in his mind. He wanted to be there. So he imagined he was.

But seeing himself all alone there was too lonely for Russia. He imagined his sisters, when they were young and cute, around him. Belarus was tugging jealously at his scarf like before, Ukraine was smiling and... A ladybug.

He had seen those when visiting other countries for meetings. Those little red beetles were thought of as cute usually. So he imagined one crawling on Ukraine's hand.

She's be nervous over the bug, but she'd enjoy it's ticklish feet anyways. Belarus would get jealous of the attention the beetle was getting from both her older siblings and run into the flowers to look for something to get the spotlight back on her.

Ukraine would follow and then... And then Russia would be all alone again.

He hated that feeling, and the sadness that crept in with it, so he hurriedly imagined more people.

Estonia, Lithuania, and Lavita.

_They were always so nervous around me. Maybe it is my height?_

But right now Russia still saw himself as little, since otherwise his sisters might be made uneasy too.

_Little..._ He'd seen Lithuania when he was little. So he made all of them as young as him.

But Lithuania got sad a lot without that friend of his, right? So poland should be here too.

But Poland would take him away...

Suddenly, the desire to keep everyone with him was too much, and he imagined everyone there. Even that little America look-alike... Can... Cani... Canadia was it? Canadia was even there, sitting in the sunflowers with his polar bear.

They were all there. Never mind that everything was hazy and surreal. Never mind the impossibilities behind it. They were together. Safe. Happy.

So bright and colorful.

Then it was all ripped away as burning agony threw him from his dreamworld.

He was on fire again.

A bucket of ice water was thrown on the flames, and the monsters begin to beat at him, only half intending to put out the fire still scorching him.

It took him a while to reorient himself. He had apparently been dug out from the snow and revived from the coma-inducing hypothermia with the use of those blasted matches.

Now he was again lying in the middle of a circular pavilion, somewhere in plain view of the city, where they could openly humiliate and break him.

He felt the bottom of shoes grinding into his head and back, his face pressed into muddy slush and blood.

Oddly, Russia found he couldn't ground himself mentally as he always had. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the unending suffering he felt. Maybe it was being ripped from his attempt at happiness so suddenly and violently.

Or maybe they had finally broken their torture-toy.

Either way, Russia couldn't stop the abrupt terror from saturating his mind. He was scared. He was afraid and depressed and hurting so badly that he wished he hadn't ever woken from his frozen sleep. He had been reduced to a child-like mindset, as the rest of him was in ruins, and it made his torture all the worse.

"Die you demon!" One man screams and spits on him. A hatchet swung into his collarbone and shattered it. Knives and sharp bits of metal and glass were stuck into his back and ripped through his skin. Russia wails and sobs at these new explosions of pain. It was all so hopeless and desolate. So painful. _Too _painful!

"Kill me! Kill me!" He shrieks at them and flails, and their onslaught worsens. He didn't care anymore! No more! It didn't matter that they were only humans and couldn't end his life! "Just kill me and end it! Just get it over with! Kill me!"

He could feel his sanity slipping. He didn't bother to try to hold onto it. If he couldn't die physically, then he'd do it mentally and emotionally.

Under the frantic, maddened beatings of his own fallen children, Russia lost his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright fellas, the plan is to sneak in and find Russia!"

"Do you really think it'll be that easy America?! And why did you tell us to bring weapons if that's the plan?!"

America turns and smiles innocently at the doubtful Englishman. "Well duh! Their for beating up anyone who tries to stop us! And of course it won't be _that _easy. They might send in ninja assassins or something!"

"Ninjas are from my country America, not Russia's," Japan polietly reminds the overexcited blond.

"Well of course! Russia probably has, like, super soldiers or something!"

"America, if we're supposed to be pulling a 'rescue' mission, then why are you acting like Russia's our enemy?" Britian asks in annoyance.

When the U.S's human representation turns to him, he's no longer the overzealous man Britian's used to. "Russia is probably not our enemy... But his people might be. You guys remember how things were in The Great Depression and on 9/11 right?"

Britian can only blink quietly at the somber smile on America's face for a moment before finally managing to whisper, "How could I forget?"

When people were desperate, they became untrusting and temperamental. All the nations had seen this in their people at one time or another and it was always a frightening thing.

Suddenly, America's safety measures weren't so drastic.

"Alright, extreme caution with this, okay guys? Let's head out!"

-.+

He felt like he was unraveling.

Tired. He just wanted it over.

The pain. Pain again. Again. Always.

It didn't leave.

Warm, thick confusion had folded over his mind like sleep, and buzzing filled his ears.

It didn't hurt.

But it did.

Just inside though.

No, it was the outside.

His chest was throbbing. It felt like the walls of his stomach and his ribs were trying to collapse on themselves. He felt nauseous almost. And cold.

But it was all in the inside, not a thing caused by the angry people swarming him like crows. Maybe at least.

Maybe he was dying. It almost sounded good. It did actually.

Then that weird aching would stop. Not in his lungs... Not blood or bone... What was hurting so much in his chest?

Not a lot. A little.

It felt like a severe wound. No, a sliver. No...

He suddenly noticed the loud thudding in his ears. It blocked out other sound. Or maybe he just couldn't focus on the noises outside his head. It was getting hard to focus. Like being really tired.

Sick maybe?

Oh. His heart.

That's what was noisy. It hurt. A lot.

He felt kind of sad when he listened to it. It was like watching a dying bird struggle helplessly. It wasn't funny to him. It could have been, pain was funny a lot. Though right now was not a time for laughing.

It was sad. Blue and black on white.

Helplessness. For both him and the bird. He wanted to help it.

Normally when he felt helpless, things got funny.

Normally when things were sad or scary, they were funny.

Anything could be laughed at.

Jokes and games were funny. They were just fine. They ended.

Safe. No danger.

Let them be real. Let his fear and impulses force jokes and laughter down other's throats that came back as screams. Screams that were as familiar and comforting as a whistle to dinner.

Screams and violence that blocked the thoughts that pounded through his head and _hurt!_

He could feel a bizarre high giggle in the back of his mind. Was it out loud? Did it make it to his lips?

Laugh, laugh, laugh, Russia. Laugh and laugh until you can't breath, smile until your face hurts or else everything will fall down and you'll break and be chopped up and die more than any physical wound. Let the pain be somewhere else so the things in front of your face aren't real. Laugh and laugh. Don't worry. Things fix.

Laugh and smile. Don't stop.

Or you'll never start again.

-.+

The man shouts in Russian at them.

"Anyone have a clue what the git is saying?" Britain asks.

He receives only a chorus of no's.

"It did sound rather violent and angry though." Germany suggests.

"Dudes!" America suddenly exclaims. "I can, like, totally do this! I'm not the melting pot of the world for nothing right!?"

Britian looks pessimisticly doubtful. "America, I'm not so sure about that. Your citizens seem a tad... Ignorant of other countries and their languages."

"What's that supposed to mean?" America asks with an infuriatingly blank look.

"It means there's a reason the English language loses its respectability when you use it!" Britian snaps.

"Oh c'mon Britian! Your not still angry about LOL right? Textese is super cool! I bet even your lame county uses it too!"

"Why you!"

"Заткнись иностранцев!"

They turn their attention back to the angry Russian. His filthy clothing hanging off his thin body was being tugged back by strong winds, showing his desperation, and the gun in his hand and the suspicious look made it clear he was ready to kill to live.

He points it at them, shifting targets whenever someone so much as twitched.

"Are we all in aggreance that this man posses a threat?" Germany asks.

"Yup."

"Alright, then we need to move him forcibly."

China and Japan move at the same time, diving towards him with the speed they both had built over the years.

"Aya! Move back Japan! I have this!"

"Then allow me to assist you!"

"Noo! Out of the way!"

"I must politely refuse to comply!"

The others shake their heads at the two Asian brother's bickering as they dodge the Russian's bullets. Finally, China hits the man over the head with the wok and knocks him out.

"See?! I told you I had him!" China retorts to Japan.

"Yes, after I moved you out of the path of his bullet." Japan replies calmly.

"Which I would have dodged anyways had you not interfered!"

"China!" Germany yells to stop the fight.

"Regardless of who was or wasn't capable of bringing down a _single man,_ we still need to move his body out of sight!"

China pouts, but helps Japan drag the man behind a nearby building that looked inhospitable.

Japan ignores China's grumbling, turning to survey for witnesses, then freezes. "Is that... A child?"

China looks up, surprised. "It is! A girl I think!"

The girl sees them and turns to run with a scared look.

"Wait! Don't be scared!" China calls and chases her.

"Yes, because seeing two foreigners dragging her unconscious country-man is no reason to fear." Japan mumbles as he hurries after his brother.

"I never raised you to have such a smart mouth Japan. I think those westerners are rubbing off on you too much." China complains.

_Are they really?_ Japan wonders absently.

The girl run into another crumpled building and straight into the hands of a very tall, skinny man.

This man also has a rifle, and doesn't hesitate to point it aggressively at the two Asian brothers with his brown, almond-shaped eyes glareing at them through platinum-blond bangs.

Realizing this man's protectiveness over the little girl, Japan puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture. China follows awkwardly.

"We do not mean any harm." Japan says gently. He had no idea if this man spoke English, but it was worth a shot at least.

"Then why were you attacking my little sister?" He growls in a thick accent.

Japan tries a light, almost confused smile. "We are a bit lost. We were only hoping she could help us."

The girl whispers in Russian to the man's ear and his scowl deepens. "My sister says she saw you dragging a dead body. She thinks you are killers."

Japan shakes his head, but as he opens his mouth, China beats him to speaking. "That man was just unconscious. He had been threatening us with bullets in our skulls, similarly to what you are doing now. I suggest you put it down before someone is hurt, aru."

Clearly, China was not planning on using diplomacy.

The man glares darkly at him and levels his gun to China's head. "I think you two are threats. Its best I eliminate you right here."

"Stop!"

They all turn to a man in the corner. He looks far older and is missing a leg, along with part of his arm by the looks of the bandaging. He looks very weak and ill, but his eyes were smoldering and proud.

"Father, I don't understand! These men are clearly untrustworthy! We are in enough danger an-"

"Enough!" The older man scowls at his son. "I will be the judge of that!"

He turns his sharp eyes, almond and brown like his son's, to stare piercingly at China and Japan.

"Drop your weapons if you're really 'peaceful'" He commands and hesitantly, they obey.

"What are your names?"

"I am Kiku Honda. My brother is Wang Yao. We apologize for the trouble we've caused," Japan says with a slight bow, still cautiously watching the son's rifle trained on them.

The older man frowns. "Kiku Honda and Wang Yao. Brothers... Yet of different nationalities."

Japan bites his lip. Why, for once, could this person be like so many others who couldn't tell the difference between one Asian and another? "That's right, we're adopted siblings."

"Of course. Nations do technically have to 'adopt' others as their siblings."

China and Japan both jerk back with shock.

The man smiles and says, "Welcome to Russia, Japan and China. I am the former Prime Minister."

* * *

**Well isn't that fun? First paranoid stranger they meet leads them straight to the Prime Minister. **

**By the way, I'm American, so I dunno if other non-Asian countries really don't recognize the different nationalities well. It may just be us in the ignorant melting pot. Speaking of which, anyone know if Brits use textese? I'm really curious.**

**The style in the part with Russia was inspired through the books Black Eyed Suzie and Unwholly (the part where techy guy whats-his-face is looking back on his depressing Unwind life, if I remember right). I had to rewrite it because it looked wrong to me the first time. Too clearheaded and coherent and romanticized. Lame. **

**It took a while to update because, after reading some inspiring, heartfelt fiction on the Nordics, I couldn't keep that Russian feeling. **


	5. Chapter 5

"_Prime Minister?!"_

The man nods. "Way back when we had something close to a government, which, believe it or not, was only a few months ago. Things accelerate quickly in their final moments."

"Wait a moment! These two foreigners are _countries?!_" The son stares at them in shock and absently lowers the gun.

"Don't drop that just yet Andrei!" The Minister snaps and the boy, now named as Andrei, quickly readies it again. "These two may be nations, but that doesn't mean they are to be completely trusted." The Minister turns back to China and Japan. "For all we know, you could be planning to take advantage of our weakness."

China and Japan are both startled by their sudden switches between defensiveness and hospitality, but Japan quickly steps forward. "No, we are only here to help a fellow nation. We knew that Russia, that Ivan was having some problems. When he missed the world meeting, we were all concerned, so we came to investigate. We are here to help!"

"We?" The Minister says slowly.

"Ah, that's right! Our companions, they're here too." Japan sighs. "We forgot to tell them where we were going. They must be worried now."

The Minister frowns and nods. "Andrei, go with one of them to take the rest here. I wish to speak with them."

"I will go, aru!" China declares, already feeling his lesser abilities in peaceful negotiations compared to his calmer brother.

"But wait!" Andrei turns to his father with concern drawn over his face. "What about you? You could be hurt!" Andrei doesn't bother to hide his untrusting glance at Japan's katana, still lying on the floor.

"Andrei, I will be fine. I am not as helpless as I appear. Besides, this one will not harm me, da?" The Minister turns to Japan at the last part and Japan bows low.

"Hai, I give my word as nation, I shall not hurt the Russian Prime Minister."

"I hope not. For your sake." The boy breaks into an eerie smile that reminds the two Asians far too much of the country he belonged to.

China edges to the door uncomfortably. "We will be leaving now, alright?"

"Da. Remember your promise... Japan right?"

"Hai. I will not forget."

With that they leave.

Their descent isn't long, thankfully, and China finds the others before the suspicious Russian on his tail decides to make use of his beloved rifle.

"China! Where were you?! Where's Japan?! And who is this?!" Germany immediately demands when they reach them.

"We followed a little girl, aru, and she turned out to be the Russian Prime Minister's daughter. Japan is still with him, oh, and he is Andrei. He's the son of the Prime Minister, aru," China explains quickly.

"It is good to meet you." Germany says and stretches out a hand. Andrei just stares at him suspiciously.

"My father wants to speak with all of you." He says flatly.

Germany nods. "In that case, we should not make him wait, ja?"

"_Da_," He says, deliberately straining his own language to empthesise the fact that they were in _his _land so _he _was in charge.

Germany nods, accepting this, and he and the others follow Andrei back to the ruined building.

They find Japan and the Prime Minister in an awkward conversation about Japanese and Russian food. When Germany takes over, China hears Japan mutter under his breath about "confusing subject changes", and China can guess the original topic of discussion was not edibles.

"...So your government fell seven months ago?"

"Da. Officially at least. Even before that things were getting very bad"

"What happened to Russia during this time?"

"I was concerned the people would hurt him if they found him with us, so I convinced him to go home. I hoped he would be safe there... But..."

The weary man sighs. "I doubt he still is. Andrei brought me terrible rumors of him being betrayed, and if the people know who he is, or even just see others hurting him, they will torture him. It is sad how far we have fallen."

Germany nods solemnly. "Ja. I understand."

"So do you want us to find him?" Britian asks.

The Russian's head lowers and he's quiet for a moment. "I am deciding to trust you. As much as I hate to say it, we do not have much hope without outside assistance at this point. And," he looks up again, meeting their eyes with a sullen look. "If Russia is hurt, I will not forgive myself. I rather like him, and it is my duty as his leader to protect him. I've... Already failed him in all other aspects. I could not even keep him from suffering through the fall."

"Ja, we will find him. We can take you and your family out of this place until things settle."

"Nyet." The official looks back up at him. "I am the leader of this country. I failed to stop this, I deserve to see this destruction through."

"Although..." He pauses. "I want my daughter and son to go with you-"

"What?!"

"Andrei can help guide you through the land, and he is the only one of us with a gun. His sister will be defenseless if she stays with me."

"But sir!"

"Oтец!"

The Prime Minister turns to Andrei with a sad smile. "Yes сын?"

"You can't just give up and die! You didn't tell me you had no gun! Father, you can't leave me with these foreigners!"

The Prime Minister's face becomes solemn. "Cын, remember как за каменной стеной. You must be strong for your nation and your sister."

Andrei swallows, then pulls a well perfected pokerface. "Yes Oтец."

The official nods to his son, then pulls his daughter into his lap. Already she appears to understand a bit of what is happening, and lets out a string of Russian with an accusing look.

They talk for a few minutes before finally she reaches up for her brother, who picks her up gently.

"Goodbye," The Prime Minister tells his children with a smile. "Please, undo my mistakes and help Russia."

Andrei nods solemnly, then he follows the nations out.

They hadn't walked for a minute before a gunshot rang out and they turn to see a mob leaving the building.

"отец...!" Andrei's expression darkens as he watches the skeletal house, the he turns away. "Come on nations. We need to find Russia."

They don't argue with his hollow tone, quietly following him through the ruined streets of his homeland.

* * *

**Geez, so apparently Russians are real tough cookies with expressing emotion. They smile rarely in public (Russia may want to rethink that constant expression on his face) and in a study on emotional control with participants of both genders from America, Japan, Russia and South Korea, Russia ranked highest (Americans were obviously lowest. Us and our weird need to barf our feelings all over the place). Correct me if I'm wrong Russians, but you guys tend to save your smiles for your friends and family, which keeps a smile a special thing. ****Its kinda cool. Here in the U.S, its definitely not like that. When your not smiling, its all too common to be thought of as unhappy, so the majority smile like its required to breath. ****We probably appear slightly bipolar and fake to you, but we just wear our hearts on our sleeves while trying to be polite to our peers.**

**Any ideas for what state poor little Russia should be in?**

**Translations:**

**отец= father**

**Cын= son**

**как за каменной стеной= A Russian saying that translates as "As if behind the stone wall." It describes how a man must be strong and reliable.**

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Review, or I will smile eerily at you.


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